Chapter 14: Blazing Fire Burns the Melody (Part 3): She Beats and Scolds Me Every Day! Part 1

After clarifying this point, Mu Qian Tan felt much more relaxed. She poured out the tea in her cup and placed it upside down on the porcelain tray.

Though she had long decided to usurp the Female Protagonist’s identity, she knew no matter how she thought about it that this was not an easy task to accomplish—especially when she was constrained in every way.

A few days earlier, while she lay resting on the coffin lid, she had considered several ways to achieve her goal. But according to the deductions, they all basically ended in failure. After too many attempts, it even made her doubt whether it could be done at all.

However, upon further reflection, she had come to this world because the Female Protagonist’s behavior had deviated from the original story. This itself proved that the plotline could be changed.

It might even already have been changed—that prophecy was the evidence.

Since that was the case, giving up was absolutely not an option. Within the limits of her abilities, she needed to gather more information, proceed step by step, and carefully handle the plot to survive.

Just thinking of the original story’s contents filled her with unwillingness. Fate was something best held in one’s own hands, after all.

The candle flame flickered on the table. Mu Qian Tan left the table, removed her clothes, and slowly sank into the bath bucket. The hot water gently enveloped her slender body. Through the black hair spreading on the water’s surface and the rising steam, only vague glimpses of pale skin could be seen.

She leaned against the bucket, resting the back of her head on the rim. The graceful curve of her neck was fair and elegant, water droplets sliding down the lines of her tendons into the hollow of her collarbone.

On her flawless skin, one spot was particularly eye-catching. On either side of her right, straight collarbone, there were red moles, as if someone had nipped them with teeth, leaving two bloody bite marks.

Mu Qian Tan lightly closed her eyes, letting her thoughts drift far away. She recalled things haphazardly for a while, then couldn’t help thinking:

Even when the Original Host held an absolute advantage, she had somehow failed at the sacrifice and wasted such a good opportunity, allowing the Female Protagonist to grow strong enough to counter-kill her.

If it had been Mu Qian Tan, she definitely would have been more cautious and made the wish to become a god with a hundred times more sincerity.

After washing up, with wisps of heat still rising from her body, she twisted her damp long hair with a towel and opened the door to look outside.

A lamp glowed on the corridor wall, but the floor was empty. That Brain-Damaged Dragon had no idea where she had gone.

Whatever. If she wasn’t here, so be it.

Mu Qian Tan closed the door and returned to the bedside. She combed her waist-length black hair smooth with her fingers, reinserted the Crane-Gazing Orchid Step-Shake, and draped on her outer robe before half-reclining on the bed.

The inn was rather old, with spiderwebs in the corners and quilts piled against the wall that gave off a musty smell. The environment wasn’t great, but for some reason, it put her at ease.

She estimated the time in her mind and waited.

In the days before arriving in Prosperous Joy City, she had been studying Li Biyuan’s observation method, piecing together a few conclusions.

First, what she saw was what the monitor saw. What she couldn’t see, the monitor couldn’t either. This meant that as long as she closed her eyes, Li Biyuan’s view would also plunge into darkness.

Second, she only shared her hearing and vision with Li Biyuan.

Third: Li Biyuan’s sleep time was roughly from one or two in the morning to six or seven. During that period, she would completely leave the monitor, with no one on shift, so the connection would fully disconnect.

Mu Qian Tan checked the time—it was about ten at night—and spoke up. “I’m done washing.”

‘Cough cough cough.’ The instant noodle bucket crumpled. Li Biyuan sat back in her chair with a creak and put on the device. ‘You took so long. Were you taking a bath?’

Mu Qian Tan said, “Is there such a thing as a shower here?”

The click of the helmet buckle fastening sounded. Li Biyuan didn’t suspect a thing. ‘Fair point.’

Mu Qian Tan slightly turned her body, pressing her curved finger to her temple and rubbing it as she softly asked, “Are you going to play games again?”

‘Yeah,’ Li Biyuan said. ‘Gotta use up those stamina points.’

Mu Qian Tan had learned a bit about her during their previous idle chats.

This girl didn’t seem like it online, but offline, she had severe social anxiety that needed medical treatment—an ultimate shut-in.

She almost completely avoided offline social activities, immersing herself in the internet all day. Aside from work, all her time went to reading comics or gaming. Her interests were extremely broad, from mainstream favorites to niche hobbies too embarrassing to mention aloud. She was a true homebody who treated the company like a second home.

She never stepped out the door, but she had plenty of “friends.” As a hardcore otome game enthusiast, she claimed to have several dictionaries’ worth of paper figurine husbands, judging by normal photo album thickness. And she even had three albums for her game character wives.

Her job paid well. Aside from basic living expenses, she spent it all on games or merchandise—collecting trading cards, standees, and the like. Her real-life desires were as sparse as a bodhisattva’s, but she couldn’t tolerate missing a single in-game achievement.

Mu Qian Tan didn’t game much herself, but she could understand how some people got addicted—games were designed to fulfill people’s needs, after all. What she really didn’t get were romance games. She had no idea what real stimulation someone could get from a virtual character.

So she asked, “The responses from characters are limited and lack novelty. You like romance games so much—why not try it with a real person? Wouldn’t that feel more real?”

Li Biyuan seemed to have seen through it all. ‘I can’t communicate with real people. I’d break out in hives. And real romance isn’t all that great anyway. People in reality don’t love you unconditionally like paper figurines do.’

“…It’s not easy for you to grow up.” Mu Qian Tan replied, not quite agreeing with the latter part. “It has nothing to do with love or not. Doing anything without expecting a return is just stupid.”

Li Biyuan said, ‘You can’t say that. What about people who do charity?’

Mu Qian Tan said, ‘Guess if charity donors seek fame or profit? You can praise their contributions without thinking they’re truly great. First check if the money they donate so generously came from clean sources.’

She had seen too many examples of people doing guilty deeds early in life and washing away their sins with charity later on. She thought expecting no return was stupid, but in reality, few people could truly achieve it. Even so-called selfless familial love came with the premise of elder care.

Li Biyuan couldn’t think of a rebuttal and could only say, ‘We can’t be that pessimistic. Good and bad things coexist in the world…’

‘Shut up. They do coexist. But it’s good people with bad things, and bad people with good things.’

The recollection ended there. Time ticked by second by second. Mu Qian Tan gazed at the candle flame, holding back her sleepiness with a soft yawn.

She raised her eyes to the ceiling. Years of neglect had cracked the wooden boards, and the cracks resembled a black dragon twisting through rolling clouds.

She blinked slowly and asked, “I saw that prophecy too. It’s world-destroying for sure, but how did you conclude the Female Protagonist is heading to the Modern World? There are so many Small Worlds—why not somewhere else?”

The eyeball behind the Black Hand shifted, silent for a while, as if she had put away her phone. Li Biyuan laughed. ‘Because the prophecy showed a mirage of modern buildings.’

Mu Qian Tan thought she’d misheard and repeated, “A mirage? Modern buildings?”

‘Yeah.’

“Just based on that?” Mu Qian Tan rubbed her temple. “There are countless Small Worlds with modern settings. That reasoning doesn’t hold water.”

Such a major and dangerous event as destroying the Modern World—and in all the time since she’d transmigrated into the book, only Li Biyuan had been interfacing with her. There hadn’t even been harsh pressure; more like tolerance for her obvious mistakes.

It was as if the matter wasn’t that urgent.

Mu Qian Tan had felt something off from the start, and now with such a flimsy transmigration reason, it seemed the world the rampaging Female Protagonist wanted to go to might not even be the Modern World.

So what was the point of her initial actions?

Li Biyuan said leisurely, ‘Better safe than sorry.’

Sensing Mu Qian Tan’s disbelief, she added, ‘The prerequisite for Shang Shan coming up with the idea of crossing time and space is realizing her world isn’t real. That’s dangerous enough on its own.’

That was somewhat convincing, but Mu Qian Tan still felt something was off—her intuition was particularly strong, making her suspect there were other hidden reasons why Li Biyuan had sent her to this world.

Directly asking wouldn’t yield answers, so she suppressed her doubts and probed, “I still think it’s unreliable. No wonder you’re the only researcher observing this world—everyone else probably thinks you’re daydreaming.”

The swivel chair rolled across the floor. After a moment, Li Biyuan said, ‘One person’s enough. Don’t underestimate me, okay?’

Her guess was confirmed—only one person. That simplified things a lot.

No matter the original purpose, things were different now. She should focus on the present first and probe those secrets when she had the spare capacity.

They chatted sporadically for a bit more as night deepened. Outside, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

With no more sounds in her ears, Mu Qian Tan lay there a while longer, then propped herself up on the bed. She took out the money pouch from her bosom, flipped it over to look at the “Reunion” embroidery in the corner, and listened closely to the night watchman’s calls.

Not long after, slow footsteps echoed from the street. There were probably two people. After a few steps, one called out, “Dry weather, beware of fires.” Then came the gong and clapper: “Dong, dong! Dong! Dong!”

It was the fourth watch.

At that moment, the window was pushed open. Someone panted as she gripped the sill, trying to climb in. But before her foot could find purchase, she looked up and saw someone sitting on the bed. She immediately let go in fright, nearly falling, and hurriedly clung back on.

The two stared at each other for a moment before Shang Shan said dryly, “You’re still awake?”

Mu Qian Tan put away the money pouch, got out of bed, and walked to the window. “What, you were waiting for me to fall asleep before sneaking in? Planning to steal something?”

Shang Shan shook her head frantically. “I’m not that kind of person. I just didn’t feel like going through the main gate. The window’s right here—one flip and I’m in.”

Her shoulder was dusted with bits of firecracker paper, she reeked of gunpowder, and she clutched a half-eaten mung bean cake. It was clear she’d been out joining the festivities, playing wildly until now. Mu Qian Tan said speechlessly, “Why not come back at dawn?”

Shang Shan said, “Mind your own business when I come back. We’re not sleeping together anyway.”

Mu Qian Tan made to close the window. “You’re right. Go find another inn, or you’ll have to sleep on the street.”

“Hey!” Shang Shan clung tighter to the sill. “There are tons of mosquitoes outside. They bit me good—can’t sleep like this.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “With your thick skin, you’re afraid of mosquito bites?”

Shang Shan said indignantly, “Where am I thick-skinned?”

“You’d better be,” Mu Qian Tan said as she shut the window. “Because you’re not coming in today.”

To avoid getting pinched, Shang Shan let go and dropped down. She angrily ruffled her hair and yelled, “Fine, I’ll go find little sister Qin He. She’ll definitely share her bed with me.”

“Go ahead.” Mu Qian Tan’s mouth agreed as she wrapped the Solitary Goose and the rusty sword in the bedding. Then she said no more.

Down below, the person spun in circles on the spot in frustration. Seeing the window truly wouldn’t open, she finally left.

Once the footsteps faded, Mu Qian Tan softly said, “Li Biyuan?”

She called a few more times, but there was no response.

Fourth watch—she must have gone to sleep.

Mu Qian Tan left the room, placed restrictions on the doors and windows to ensure no one but her could enter, and departed through the inn’s front door.

The streets were deserted and pitch-black, lit only by the bright moonlight. She walked briskly for a distance, caught up to the two night watchmen from earlier, and asked for the locations of all the apothecaries in the city. After memorizing them, she began searching each one.

According to the original plot, the killer in Prosperous Joy Workshop was a century-old Pipa Demon who had a grudge against the workshop master’s son for some reason. To get revenge, the Pipa Demon would set a massive fire during the Prosperous Joy Banquet two days later, when the whole city was reveling, and burn everyone in the workshop to death.

After committing such a heinous act, driven by her bloodlust and vengeful glee, her cultivation would advance further, condensing a demon core rich in spiritual power.